"That could be true because there sure isn't a hell of a lot we know." He looked at Lucy. "You know what Birdsong is?"
"My Sig's got a Birdsong finish." She looked over at me. "So does Aunt Kay's Browning."
"Well, this guy Eddings had a Browning nine-mil just like what your aunt's got and it has a desert brown Birdsong finish. Plus, his ammo's Teflon-coated and has red lacquer on the primer. I mean you could shoot the shit through twelve phone books in the friggin' pouring rain."
She was surprised. "What's a journalist doing with something like that?"
"Some people are just very enthusiastic about guns and ammo," I said. "Although I never knew Eddings was. He never mentioned it to me-not that he necessarily would have."
"I've never seen KTW in Richmond at all," Marino said, referring to the brand name of the Teflon-coated cartridges. "Legal or otherwise."
"Could he have gotten it at a gun show?" I asked.
"Maybe. One thing's for sure. This guy probably went to a lot of them. I ain't told you about his apartment yet."
I covered the dough with a damp towel and put the bowl in the oven on the lowest setting.
"I won't give you the whole tour," he went on. "Just the important parts, starting with the room where he's apparently been reloading his own ammo. Now where he's been shooting all these rounds, who knows. But he's got plenty of guns to choose from, including several other handguns, an AK-47, an MP5 and an M16. Not exactly what you use for varmint hunting. Plus, he subscribed to a number of survivalist magazines, including Soldier of Fortune, U.S. Cavalry Magazine, and Brigade Quartermaster.
Finally"-Marino took another swallow of beer-"we found some videotapes on how to be a sniper. You know special forces training and shit like that."
I folded eggs and Parmesan reggiano with ricotta. "Any hint as to what he may have been involved in?" I asked as the mystery of the dead man deepened and unsettled me more.
"No, but he sure as hell seemed to be after something."
"Or something was after him," I said.
"He was scared," Lucy spoke as if she knew. "You don't go diving after dark and carry along a waterproof nine-mil loaded with armor-piercing ammo unless you're scared. That's the behavior of someone who thinks there's a contract out on him."
It was then I told them about my strange early-morning phone call from an Officer Young who did not seem to exist. I mentioned Captain Green and described his behavior.
"Why would he call, if he's the one who did?" Marino frowned.
"Clearly, he didn't want me at the scene," I said. "And maybe if I were given ample information by the police, I would just wait for the body to come in, as I usually do."
"Well, it sounds to me like you were being bullied," Lucy said.
"I believe that was the overall plan," I agreed.
"Have you tried the phone number this nonexistent Officer Young gave you?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Where is it?"
I got it for her and she dialed it.
"It's the number for the local weather report," she said, hanging up.
Marino pulled out a chair from the checker cloth-covered breakfast table and straddled it, his arms folded on top of the back. Nobody spoke for a while as we sifted through data that were getting only stranger by the minute.
"Listen, Doc." Marino cracked his knuckles. "I really gotta smoke. You going to let me or do I have to go outside?"
"Outside," Lucy said, jabbing her thumb toward the door and looking meaner than I knew she felt.
"And what if I fall into a snowdrift, you little runt?" he said.
"It's four inches deep out there. The only drift you're going to fall into is the one in your mind."
"Tomorrow we'll go out on the beach and shoot cans," he said. "Now and then you need someone to give you a little humility, Special Agent Lucy."
"You most certainly will not be shooting anything on this beach," I said to both of them.
"I guess we could let Pete open the window and blow smoke out," Lucy said. "But it just shows you how addicted you are."
"As long as you smoke fast," I said to him. "This house is cold enough as it is."
The window was stubborn, but no more so than Marino, who managed to get it open after a violent struggle. Moving his chair nearby, he lit up and blew smoke out the screen.
Lucy and I placed silverware and napkins in the living room, deciding it would be cozier to eat in front of the fire than in Dr. Mant's kitchen or cramped, drafty dining room.
"You haven't even told me how you're doing," I said to my niece as she started working on the fire.
"I'm doing great."
Sparks swarmed up the chimney's sooty throat as she shoved more wood inside, and veins stood out in her hands, muscles flexing in her back. Her gifts were in computer science and, most recently, robotics, which she had studied at MIT. They were areas of expertise that had made her very attractive to the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team, but the expectation of her was cerebral, not physical. No woman had ever passed HRT's punishing requirements, and I worried that she was not going to accept her limits.
"How much are you working out?" I asked her.
She closed the screen and sat on the hearth, looking at me. "A lot."
"If your body fat gets much lower, you won't be healthy.
"I'm very healthy and actually have too much body fat."
"If you're getting anorexic, I'm not going to have my head in the sand about it, Lucy. I know that eating disorders kill. I've seen their victims."
"I don't have an eating disorder."
I came over and sat next to her, the fire warming our backs.
"I guess I'll have to take your word on that."
" Good."
"Listen"-I patted her leg-"you've been assigned to HRT as their technical consultant. It has never been anyone's assumption that you will fast-rope out of helicopters and run four-minute miles with the men."
She looked over at me with flashing eyes. "You're one to talk about limitations. I don't see that you've ever let your gender hold you back."
"I absolutely know my limitations," I disagreed. "And I work around them with my mind. That is how I have survived."
"Look," she said with feeling, "I'm tired of programming computers and robots, and then every time something big goes down-like the bombing in Oklahoma City-the guys head off to Andrews Air Force Base and I get left.
Or even if I go with them, they lock me in some little room somewhere like I'm nothing but a nerd. I'm not a goddamn nerd. I don't want to be a latchkey agent."
Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears and she averted them from me. "I can run any obstacle course they put me on. I can rappel, sniper-shoot and scuba-dive. More important, I can take it when they act like assholes. You know, not all of them are exactly happy to have me around."
I had no doubt of that. Lucy had always been an extremely polarizing human being, because she was brilliant and could be so difficult. She was also beautiful in a sharpfeatured, strong way, and I frankly wondered how she survived at all on a special forces team of fifty men, not one of whom she would ever date.
"How is Janet?" I asked.
"They transferred her out to the Washington Field Office to do white-collar crime. So at least she's not far away."
"This must have been recent." I was puzzled.
"Real recent." Lucy rested her forearms on her knees.
"And where is she tonight?"
"Her family's got a condo in Aspen."
My silence asked the question, and her voice was irritated as she answered it. "No, I wasn't invited. And not just because Janet and I aren't getting along. It just wasn't a good idea."
"I see." I hesitated before adding, "Then her parents still don't know."